Auswahl der wissenschaftlichen Literatur zum Thema „Spiritual resemblance“

Building on Page duBois’ work on domestic slavery, and the relationship between literal and metaphorical slavery, this article revisits John Chrysostom’s treatises against the subintroductae (“female spiritual companions”), and reads the late ancient ascetic cohabitation of syneisaktism (often termed “spiritual marriage”) not so much as a type of spiritual marriage, but as an alternative form of slavery. The findings examine the discourse of slavery in the treatises, determine the type of service cohabiting ascetics may have provided to one another, and show how this popular living arrangement relates to late ancient domestic slavery. The thesis holds that syneisaktism provided an alternative to slaveholding, since many of these subintroductae would have been ascetics who got rid of most, if not all, of their slaves, and had to find other ways of coping with domestic labor demands. The close resemblance between slavery and syneisaktism thus shapes Chrysostom’s diatribe against the subintroductae.

Many theologians and sociologists claim that in order to restore the social and postmodern man’s original image and resemblance to God, turning him into a “complete person,” with spiritual, religious, or cultural needs, a complex theological approach is needed. This approach, known as Social Theology, includes both a social dimension and a theological one in a Chalcedonian unity and morally regulates the relationship between man and society, between Church and modern and postmodern secular society. By means of this term, the Orthodox Church and Theology want to recover the social, just as “secularized culture experiences the recovery of religion, which it has transferred to the private sphere of people’s life;” it summons the social to dialogue, collaboration and mutual responsibility, in order to recover the “contemporary individual.”

The Consolatory Discourse of the Imprisoned Monk provides an insight into Maximus the Greek’s attitude towards imprisonment, which was already announced in his behaviour during the trials. This work appears strikingly similar to two of Savonarola’s short writings. The resemblance resides not only in the quotations from the Holy Scriptures – featuring the metaphor of spiritual combat – but more particularly in the themes of man’s ingratitude and hope in the just judgement of God. The idea of spiritual combat and the notion of the patience that allows one to endure the prison conditions, are also found in Francesco’s De remediis utriusque fortunae published in Italy at the end of the 15th century. The reasons for Maximus the Greek’s specific attitude towards imprisonment, stemming from unjust persecution, can be reconstructed from the references to the Holy Scriptures, even when their meaning is not explicitly expressed. Biblical quotations often have the function of expanding the meaning of the text. In this work, they instead reflect the writer’s ideas, following the rationale of the unspoken found in the practice of self-censorship that is so crucial to an understanding of modern and contemporary literature.

The article addresses whether Christians can employ classical yoga or Zen-Buddhism meditation techniques to attain Christian perfection by invoking the spiritual doctrines of the Carmelite saints John of the Cross and Teresa of Jesus, with particular emphasis on John of the Cross’s concept of ‘nothingness’. It investigates the interpretation of this term within these three traditions to ascertain if it is understood similarly. The findings indicate that it is not. The sole commonality among these traditions is the subjective experience of nothingness or emptiness. However, there is no deeper resemblance, as yoga or Zen practices also imply an objective nothingness in faculties, which contradicts the teachings of John of the Cross and Teresa of Jesus. The article further analyzes the statements of proponents who assert the proximity of these doctrines to determine whether they properly comprehend the teachings of John and Teresa. The conclusion drawn is that, considering the ultimate goals of each tradition, it is not feasible to invoke Carmelite spirituality to justify the use of yoga or Zen techniques in the pursuit of Christian perfection.

The authenticity, even reality, of spiritual and imaginative experience has in recent years been put to a severe test by the human sciences. The work of Bernanos has this theme at its core. The character of Monsieur Ouine, especially seems to be a predecessor of many a deconstructionist critic. He submits a young boy to what can be called a counter-initiation whereby all meaning ceases to have any importance at all. At first glance there seems to be a marked resemblance between the style of the narrator and that of the discourse of Ouine, but a careful reading reveals in the narration a rhythm and the existence of a dense network of images which constitute the coherence of the work and point to an incarnational conception of language.

In the sixth and seventh centuries the belief in an active afterlife and its corollaries, the cult of the saints and the care of the dead, came under attack by a group of people who claimed that the souls could not function without their bodies. Some defenders of the traditional point of view sought to rebut this argument through recourse to the Platonic concept of the self-moved soul, which is not in need of the body. However, the fit between Platonism and traditional notions of the afterlife was not as complete as might first be thought. This article focuses on two Christian thinkers, John of Scythopolis and Maximus the Confessor, who were deeply influenced by Platonic ideas. In his Scholia on the writings of Pseudo-Dionysius John states clearly that after death the souls of ordinary human beings are inactive whereas the souls of the spiritual elite have entered the realm of eternal realities, which is entirely separate from this world. The case of Maximus is more complex. One of his letters is a spirited defence of the posthumous activity of the soul. However, in his spiritual writings he outlines a conceptual framework that shows a marked resemblance to the position of John of Scythopolis.

Both Āyurweda and Philosophy are two subject streams, which are more close to the worldly and spiritual lives of human beings. Their connection is non-separable even in the beginning of these two systems. Therefore, it is worthy to investigate the connection between these two systems according to the cognition of seven categories and atoms, which are defined in the philosophy of Vaiśeṣika and how they are applied for the treatments of Āyurveda. The enumeration of categories included in Vaiśeṣika system such as; Dravya, Guṇa, Karma, Sāmānya, Viśeṣa, and Samavāya have been applied for the descriptions in the Āyurvedic treatments. Both these systems accept that the substance is the main component and that others all depend under the substance. Vaiśeṣika mentions of five types of Karma developed by Ūrdhva etc. Caraka and Susṛta have discussed about Pañca karma, Agni karma, Jāta karma etc. According to the philosophy of Vaiśeṣika, Sāmānya (General) means similarity of all objects and each other. For instance, the existence in combinative position of Substance, Attribute, and Action are depended upon their appearance of Sāmānya as well as Viśeṣa. In Āyurvedic system, one of the fundamental elements is awareness of resemblance. The resemblance of the substance, attribute, and action is always becomes the cause of increasing healthiness. On the other hand, their dissimilarity is the cause of reducing healthiness itself. Both systems accept that the Ātma is eternal. From these facts, it would appear that the Āyurvedic system have applied the concepts in philosophy of Vaiśeṣika for the use of a practical methodological system.

Abstract The present study offers a new reading of the Wangjiatai Gui cang’s pure yin hexagram text. I make a comprehensive analysis of the composition and layered texture of the text, by employing a methodology to engage with its images and narratives at an emic level. I determine that there is an iconographic resemblance between the hexagram picture and the graph writing its name, identify an image program centered on being “alone”, “inhumanity”, and “water”, and provide a context for the independent but interlocking narratives of Xia king Qi and Gong gong. Taken together, evidence points to Gua 寡 “Alone” as the candidate with the lowest odds among various proposals for the hexagram’s name. The overall meaning of “Alone” is that being bad, self-serving, and immoral will lead to one being divested of spiritual blessings and support of the people. The image of water in the two narratives is a metaphor for wantonness that also functions as a conduit for its disposal.

The African Renaissance concerns the moral, cultural and spiritual transformation of the African human being. Liturgy has a decisive impact on the vision, aspirations and hopes of the believer. Therefore, liturgy can have a significant influence on the African Renaissance if it adheres to fixed liturgical principles, the response of the believers is culturally bound and liturgy attains an indigenous character. As liturgy has the ability to restore human dignity and bring about reconciliation, believers can consequently gain confidence to co-operate in the healing process of the continent. Aspects of African culture displaying a close resemblance to the Bible should be developed, for example celebrating the presence of God, utilising the power of Scripture reading in liturgy, delivering sermons full of imagery, establishing an ubuntu of faith, using symbols inherent both in the Gospel and African culture, creating space for movement, communion and festivity, as well as developing songs, music and dances in a creative way.

Germany’s Ecumenical Sisterhood of Mary and its resident theologian, Mother Basilea Schlink, sought to intercede in repentance on behalf of their nation for its sins in the Holocaust. This vision of intercessory repentance had its foundations in both their reading of the Hebrew Bible and in German nationalism. However, whatever resemblance between Schlink’s language and style and that of German nationalism, she utterly inverted its priorities, placing the people (Volk) of Israel above all other peoples. This inversion was part of the sisters’ self-empowerment as women, part of a paradoxical rhetoric which, on the one hand, professed their weakness and sinfulness while, on the other hand, emphasizing their worthiness and strength. Although they were sinful as Christians and as Germans, they represented a spiritual elite, among the few worthy to stand between Germany and God, holding back God's wrath. The gendered nationalism of Schlink and the sisters was defined by deference to God and to Israel, and by counter-cultural elevation of their roles as women.

I begin this thesis with a brief account of my meetings with popular South Indian guru Sathya Sai Baba (1926- ) and very brief a discussion of recent fraud and sexual abuse allegations that have been made against him. I note that one of the key factors involved in this, also accountable for his extraordinary popularity, is his divine persona-especially his self-proclaimed identity as "the avatar"-and I review previous academic studies pertaining to this. In contrast to most previous studies of Sathya Sai Baba, which align him primarily with Śaiva traditions and with the "Sai Baba movement", I note a strong (and long running) affinity in his ideas for Vaiṣṇava traditions (especially the Bhagavad-Gītā and the Bhāgavata-Purāṇa), and I add that his background as a member of a traditionally highly regarded bardic caste may have contributed to his divine persona. I further investigate this persona via a history of potentially parallel traditional and modern avatar ideas. I show something of the manner in which many of the avatar concepts and myths to which Sathya Sai Baba refers originated and developed, especially invoking the episteme of "resemblance", posited by Brian Smith, the idea of "inclusivism"-which I adapt from the work of Paul Hacker and Wilhelm Halbfass-and traditional (Sāṁkhya) processes of "distinction", "categorization", and "enumeration". In addition to these, I much refer to Max Weber's analysis of "pure types" of authority-traditional, charismatic, and rational-showing that Sathya Sai Baba draws upon all of these in legitimating his claim to be "the avatar". I also show that his divine persona draws upon a strong affinity that he exhibits for advaita ("non-dualism"), especially that of Śaṅkara, and that his personal history of intense devotional and ecstatic/yogic spiritual practices was likely important in the formative stages of this persona. I further suggest that the history of his geographic locale, in which there are strong themes of sacred kingship and ecstatic/advaitic/poetic/devotional sainthood, may have contributed to the production and reception of his persona. On top of this, I note that the influence of a number of modern avatar figures, especially Ramakrishna, Vivekananda, and Aurobindo, is patent in his avatar teachings, and I compare and contrast him with a number of other significant modern figures. Based upon all of this, I consider the question of whether Sathya Sai Baba ought to be regarded as a "traditionalist", both vis-à-vis modernity ("Neo-Hinduism", as defined especially by Paul Hacker) and "innovation". I conclude that, in contrast to most previous scholarly characterizations, he is certainly innovative, but that he ought not to be considered a "Neo-Hindu"-most appearances to the contrary being due to his borrowing or extrapolating ideas in a very traditional manner from typical Neo-Hindu thinkers (especially Vivekananda), as if these ideas, and those that framed them, were thoroughly traditional. Finally, I outline a couple of major themes in his avatar teachings: an ambivalent attitude to his role as an exemplar, which I note to accord with earlier and parallel avatar ideas; and strong docetic tendencies, which similarly, in contrast to some scholarly characterizations, find parallels in popular portrayals of other avatar figures.

L’objectif de cette thèse est de conduire une étude comparative du portrait du monarque en France et du portrait de l’empereur en Chine aux XVIIe et XVIIIe siècle. Ma recherche vise à saisir comment et pourquoi le peintre élabore un tel portrait et figure la majesté dans une image, ou encore l’invisible dans le visible. Le peintre de la dynastie des Ming, Wang Fu (王紱1362-1416) a reconnu que « Peindre un portrait est difficile, peindre un portrait d’empereur est plus difficile ». En effet, peindre un portrait, ce n’est pas seulement rendre la ressemblance ni l’apparence. Il importe non seulement de restituer le statut social voire politique mais d’exprimer l’intériorité du modèle, de rendre vivante sa singularité. Mais peindre le portrait en majesté d’un souverain, c’est lui conférer toute sa puissance, faire rayonner sa gloire, apparaître l’étendue de son pouvoir et le figurer dans son autorité absolue. C’est pourquoi nous interrogeons le sens des emblèmes et insignes, des symboles qui lui sont réservés, et aussi les postures du corps, ainsi que le langage des couleurs, et les codes picturaux des deux cultures. Il nous faut convoquer pour ce faire des approches d’anthropologie culturelle, de sociologie, pour élaborer l’analyse de la dimension iconographique, ainsi qu’une analyse sémiologique. Quel est en effet le véritable sens de l’image du souverain en majesté, quand elle doit conjuguer la tradition, l’idéologie politique avec la structure de la représentation ? En un mot, comment un peintre peut-il représenter l’invisible dans le visible ?Notre recherche se confronte à deux questions essentielles. Comment précisément restituer le rayonnement de la gloire et la toute-puissance dans le portrait d’un souverain en majesté ? Et quelle en est la destination essentielle, s’il est répandu à l’infini pour le monarque occidental, et demeure invisible à ses sujets pour l’empereur ? Concernant la première question, il faut chercher à définir la notion de portrait, l’acte de portraire, de tracer des formes, des contours, jusqu’à modeler des reliefs par le jeu des contrastes clair-obscur, ombre-lumière, proche-lointain, par le recours à la perspective également. Nous développerons notamment des théories picturales distinctes d’une culture à l’autre, d’autant que, si le portrait est en usage depuis longtemps dans les deux cultures, il s’y est développé selon des objectifs et des rythmes bien distincts et prend un sens autre, selon le public auquel il est destiné. Ainsi, le portraitiste chinois cherche-t-il la « ressemblance spirituelle », et le souffle qui relie l’homme au cosmos, quand le portraitiste occidental cherche à rendre l’expression du sujet, et ce, selon des techniques picturales qui diffèrent largement d’une culture à l’autre. Concernant la seconde question, nous montrerons que les peintres créent le genre du portrait en majesté non seulement en choisissant soigneusement la pose et toute une gestuelle, qui traduit un langage du corps, mais aussi en y inscrivant marques et insignes d’une lignée dans la pérennité. Et ce, dans l’objectif d’attester à la fois de la légitimité et de la toute-puissance du souverain, en frappant les destinataires, en leur donnant à imaginer et à croire. Ainsi est assurée la « fabrique du roi », et sa souveraineté incontestée, ainsi est attestée auprès de tous, qui paradoxalement n’en sont pourtant pas les témoins visuels, la légitimité du Fils du ciel. Mais, ce faisant, l’image n’a-t-elle d’autre sens que d’entretenir l’illusion de la toute-puissance ? Et l’absence d’image de l’empereur qui se qualifie lui-même de zhen, l’invisible, et cultive aux yeux de ses sujets, son opacité, son impénétrabilité, nourrissant ainsi l’efficace de sa puissance, n’est-elle semblablement facteur d’illusion ?
The objective of this thesis is to conduct a comparative study of the portrait of the monarch in France and the portrait of the emperor in China in the 17th and 18th centuries. My research aims to understand how and why the painter creates such a portrait and represents majesty in an image or the invisible in the visible. The painter of the Ming dynasty, Wang Fu (王紱1362-1416), recognized that “Painting a portrait is difficult, painting a portrait of an emperor is more difficult.” Indeed, painting a portrait is not just about rendering the likeness or appearance. It is important not only to restore the social or even political status but also to express the interiority of the model and bring its uniqueness to life. However, painting a majestic portrait of a sovereign means giving him all his power, making his glory radiate, demonstrating the extent of his power, and representing him with absolute authority. That is why we need to explore the meaning of the symbols and emblems, which are specific to the sovereign, and also analyze the postures of the body, as well as the language of colors, and the pictorial codes of the two cultures. For this, we must call upon approaches of cultural anthropology, sociology, to develop the analysis of the iconographic dimension, as well as a semiological analysis. What is indeed the true meaning of the image of the sovereign in majesty, when it must combine tradition, political ideology with the structure of representation? In a word, how can a painter depict the invisible in the visible?Our research confronts two essential questions. How precisely to restore the radiance of glory and omnipotence in the portrait of a sovereign in majesty? And what is its essential purpose? The portraits of Western monarchs were widely reproduced and made accessible to the public, while the portraits of Chinese emperors were kept hidden from the eyes of their subjects. Regarding the first question, we must explore the concept of portrait, that is, the act of creating a portrait, including how to depict forms and contours through techniques such as the contrast of light and shadow, distance, and how to create a sense of volume through perspective. We will elaborate on the different theories of painting in the two cultures, as portraiture has existed for a long time in both cultures, but their goals and development differ, and it has been given different meanings based on its audience. For instance, the Chinese portraitists - pursue “spiritual resemblance” seeking to connect the essence of the individual with the universe. Western portraitists focus on expressing the demeanor of the subject, and this, according to pictorial techniques differs widely from one culture to another. Regarding the second question, we will show that painters create the genre of the portrait in majesty not only by carefully choosing the pose and a whole range of gestures, which translates into a language of the body, but also by embedding emblems and symbols representing the dynasty's perpetuity. The purpose of this is to affirm the legitimacy and supreme authority of the monarch, captivating viewers and evoking feelings of awe and reverence. Through such techniques, the image of the monarch is constructed, and their ruling status is established, even though the viewers of these images often have not witnessed them in person. However, does the meaning of the portrait only maintain the monarch's illusion of supremacy? And the emperor calls himself zhen, meaning the invisible one, while deliberately maintaining an air of mystery and inscrutability before his subjects. Does this absence of image also contribute to constructing an illusion? What we aim to establish is that whether through widely existing portraits or the absence of images, such means achieve their purpose: to evoke awe, obedience, and loyalty; in other words, to construct authority

This chapter provides an overview of the transformation of the status of religious motifs in the visual art from Surrealism to the late 1990s. When detached from their initial contexts religious motifs cease to signify religious ideas or content, and acquire new meaning. The critical mode of reference to religion, especially in the second half of the twentieth century, articulates a self-reflexive moment that problematises the status of images and the mechanisms of their circulation and display. In the second half of the century, religious motifs embedded in artworks lost their more direct iconoclastic resonances, and were used increasingly as a critical tool directed towards the institution of art itself. An object as the ready-made situated between being an artwork and an object, brought to visibility the “religious” nature of the conditions of the display of art-objects. The medium of video enabled a re-mediation of older art – both film and culturally loaded iconic religious images. This aspect of the medium was by artists to invoke or create a quasi-mystical experience, or to re-frame existing images and film footage in order to make a critical comment on the tradition.

This chapter focuses on several video installations by Bill Viola. Starting in the late 1990s, Viola created a series of video installations that refer to or even closely restage well-known religious paintings. His work makes an interesting case as it seeks to define the conditions of spiritual experiences in the space of the contemporary museum or gallery. Memoria, 2000, or Unspoken: Silver and Gold,2001, are video portraits of emotional states of anguish and suffering projected on a veil or gold surface. Both installations cite the motif of Veronica’s Veil and engage with the complex history of interpretation of the acheiropoieticimage by combining it with a theatrical replay of states of extreme emotional tension. Viola borrows religious formats and iconic masterpieces of religious art in which the religious figures are substituted with anonymous contemporaries. The images function as an embedded frame, thus more as a device than as an image. Next to being a means of reflecting on the human condition, Viola’s engagement with religious art can be read as an attempt to comment on the history of the relatively young medium of video. Viola’s interest in spiritual motifs can be understood as a concern with the intrinsic capacity of the medium of video that can create overwhelming experiences and spiritual effects.

The chapter addresses zvipunha spirits and signs of transformative experience, focusing explicitly on the here and now and the efficacy of musicking in reifying the emotional and spiritual possibilities of experience. The chapter is about a specific moment in which the zvipunha ceremony at Horus Farm transformed from one of adequacy and rote performance to one of spiritual awakening and joy. It is about how and when musicking is deemed effective and how semiotic transformations make such evaluations possible. The key was transforming resemblance and possibility into the immersive experience of presentness without mediation. Semiotic generality faded into the background. With skilled playing, enthusiastic participation, and collaborative performing, there was only one possible interpretant: spirit possession.

Medieval scholars, clerics, and religious perceived important resemblances between marriage and the relationship between God or Christ and the Church or its individual members. They construed the divine–human relationship as a mystical marriage, but they also used such analogies to explain the laws and morality of human marriage and as the basis of the doctrine of marriage as one of the sacraments. This chapter explores the diversity of such comparisons. Having noted the limitations of symbolism as our overarching category, Reynolds proposes that the implicit common denominator within medieval thought was a notion of representation, that is, a resemblance posited between corresponding items on two hierarchically ordered planes, respectively spiritual or divine and corporeal or created. Lower things, construed as signs or figures, provided cognitive and rhetorical access to analogous higher things, whereas higher things could function analogically as exemplars that lower things were required to emulate. But these two vectors of comparison were not always coincident.

This chapter describes the aparaká—the physical manifestation of a newly deceased spirit; it suggests that the simplicity of the outfit reflects the spirit’s lower status. The chapter argues that they are a primal spiritual force. They are protectors of the elder Egúngún. This chapter suggests they are an intermediate stage which a person must go through upon their death if they have been chosen to be immortalized as Egúngún. The chapter suggests they are the most abstract, since they do not have any resemblance to human shape they can be confounding and frightening. Whereas aparaká can have multiple meanings in Africa they are unique to Brazil in their singular definition—distant relatives of what may have been known as aparaká in Africa.

While many have not regarded the Confucian Analects as a sacred or religious text, the Analects bears the features of a sacred text. Exploring the origins of the word “sacred” and its contemporary usage and connection to words like “religious” and “spiritual,” this chapter treats “sacred” as a family resemblance concept. It explores the various features of the sacred, including those things (rituals, experiences, texts, people, deities) that are worthy of reverence, awe, and solemnity, and that elicit humility and gratitude. Like other sacred texts, the Analects has historically enjoyed an elevated status in a particular tradition and culture. It presents a particular person, Kongzi, not only as a transmitter of teachings but also as an exemplar of them who is worthy of reverence. In addition, the central ideas and teachings of the Analects are deeply sacred in nature.

Abstract We start with a prelude to the garden of Eden text: the description of the creation of humanity in Genesis r. This text has often puzzled interpreters: “God created humanity in his image ... male and female he created them.” What might this mean? Most assume that it means almost anything other than a physical resemblance to God. They insist that the “image” of God in humans is rationality, a moral will, original righteousness, human do minion over the earth, a spiritual nature, the capacity for a special relationship with God, and so on. Many distinguish between the “image,” which is human nature that cannot be lost, and the “likeness,” which is the relation to God that can be lost. Virtually all agree that the Bible surely could not be asserting that God has a humanlike body.

This chapter examines Octavia Butler’s Parable Series and Markus Gabriel’s ontology of fields of sense. The first part offers an overview of Gabriel’s new realist theory, which makes organized contexts the touchstone of the real. According to Gabriel, existence is not an intrinsic property of things or isolated objects; existence is defined as “the fact that something appears in a context.” There are no pre-given objects outside of contexts: what counts as an object is field-dependent. Focusing on Butler’s post-apocalyptic novels, the chapter’s second part shows that the claims of fields of sense ontology bear a striking resemblance to Butler’s exploration of the realm of the sacred through spiritual leader Lauren Oya Olamina. Lauren’s new metaphysic of post-apocalyptic survival, Earthseed, an ecological belief system whose maxim is “God is Change,” posits that the field-dependence of objects holds true for the most sublime phenomenon of all: the divine. Apocalyptic destruction forces Lauren to abandon the notion of God as absolute and unchanging being. By demoting God to a reduced force relative and subject to the laws of the post-apocalyptic world in which s/he appears, Butler presents a believable fiction staging new realism in the narrative form of apocalyptic endism.

Abstract On his arrival at Lovington in January 1833, soon after his ordination as a deacon, H. E. Manning’s theological baggage fitted neatly into a few short sentences. He summed it up in 1850, in a letter to Samuel Wilberforce, Bishop of Oxford and Manning’s brother-in-law: ‘when I came to Lovington in 1833 I believed, as I always did, in Baptismal Regeneration: I had no view of the Sacrament of the Body and Blood of Christ: and no idea of the Church.’ 1 Years later, in the recollections of his later ‘Journal’ (1878-82), he described his position at this time in greater detail: ‘The state of my religious belief in 1833 was profound faith in the Holy Trinity and the Incarnation, in the Redemption by the Passion of our Lord, and in the work of the Holy Spirit, and the conversion of the soul. I believed in baptismal regeneration, and in a spiritual, but real, receiving of our Lord in Holy Communion. As to the Church, I had no definite conception.’ His theological horizon at the time of his arrival in Lovington—because of his previous formation or because of his lack of such—bore a certain resemblance to a mild Evangelical position or to an ill-defined High Church stance.